Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [52]
"But even the elves could not hold on forever, and it seemed the deeper I dug, the weaker they grew. By the time I finally broke into Iliphar's treasure chamber, the great tree branches behind me were cracking and snapping as the ghazneths tore through. I pulled my commander's ring and activated the light spell, then cried out at all the treasure I saw heaped beneath the tree. There were hills of it, glowing with magic and crusted with enough gems to dazzle the eyes of old Thauglor himself.
"A loud rumble rolled down the tunnel from outside, then all the trees started to sing at once. I rushed into the chamber and began tearing through the treasure heaps. There were wands and staves and rods of every ilk. Any one of them and none of them could have been the Scepter of Lords, and I despaired of ever finding the right one.
"Then a terrible rasping broke out in the tunnel behind me. Thinking to bring the roof down on my pursuer, I grabbed a silver sword and rushed toward the mouth-and that is when I saw it, resting in the crooks of two roots, with a thin circlet of gold hanging from its haft."
"The Scepter of Lords?" Vangerdahast asked.
Rowen's pearly eyes rose and fell in the darkness. "It was a golden scepter fashioned in the shape of sapling oak, with finely wrought branches sprouting off at odd angles and a huge pommel of amethyst carved in the figure of an acorn. It was the most beautiful treasure in the chamber, and there was no mistaking its power.
"I snatched the scepter off its hooks and stepped off to the side of the tunnel, still fumbling with the crown on its haft as I cocked the thing back. The crimson eyes of a ghazneth appeared in the tunnel mouth, and I threw my weight into a mighty strike.
"But as I brought the head down, a hellish curse came from the tunnel and spilled out into the room in billowing black fumes. The ground shook and cracked beneath me. The floor gave way, and I fell into this horrid abyss, and I have been no more able to leave than you have."
"What of the scepter?" Vangerdahast's heart was pounding so ferociously he could barely hear his own question. "Tell me you didn't lose the scepter!"
"Of course not." Rowen's fingertips crackled with tiny balls of lightning, illuminating the ledge in twinkling bursts of silver. He reached behind him and produced a small, triple-spiked circlet with a pale amethyst set in the center. "Nor the crown that went with it."
Vangerdahast snatched the crown from the ghazneth's hand. It was as dull as lead, all the golden magic gone from it.
"You didn't!"
"I'm afraid I did, before I realized what I was turning into," said Rowen. "On the other hand, it was a useful lesson. The Scepter of Lords is still full of magic and hidden safely away-someplace where Nalavara's goblins will never find it, and where it hasn't been a constant temptation to me."
"That's something." Vangerdahast flipped the leaden crown in his fingers, silently bemoaning the loss of such ancient magic. He could have learned much by examining it-almost as much as he had by listening to the tale of its recovery. He patted Rowen warmly on the knee-then instantly regretted the gesture when it elicited a shudder of revulsion from the ghazneth. "You've done well, Rowen. We can make this work for Cormyr."
"How?" The ghazneth waved his crackling fingers around the cavern in despair. "How can we make this work for anyone?"
Vangerdahast smiled. "Nalavara went to a lot of trouble to trick you into breaking the power of Iliphar's burial ground. She wouldn't have done that unless she was worried about the scepter-a weapon you've kept out of her hands."
Rowen's expression brightened considerably. "We're going to kill her?"
"Not us," said Vangerdahast. He was thinking of the ancient secret that he and the other royal magicians had